The atmosphere was charged as we gathered at the Maloca, the heart of our Rythmia experience in Costa Rica. I noticed everyone lining up earlier than expected, so I quickly grabbed my things and joined them. Surprisingly, I felt a sense of calm wash over me, a contrast to the nervousness I had anticipated. As the last few of us settled in, the Shaman began outlining the house rules, and I found myself unusually composed, hanging onto every word.

The room buzzed with energy as 18 lightworkers and 2 shamans, each assigned to a specific group, orchestrated the proceedings. David, one of the lightworkers, caught my eye. Despite a noticeable facial disfigurement, his eyes radiated kindness and reassurance, immediately putting me at ease. Rythmia operates like a well-oiled machine, with even the EMT on site ensuring our safety.

After the briefing, we were directed to our beds, which were equipped with fresh sheets, fluffy pillows, a white bucket, and a paper toilet roll—a setup that would prove important as the night unfolded.

Live music filled the air, and I found myself swaying to its rhythm, feeling oddly comforted by its familiarity. The shamans blessed the medicine, this thick concoction, surrounded by an altar adorned with protective crystals. As I lined up for my first cup, a sense of peace enveloped me.

Each cup was blessed, the shamans infusing it with life. I sipped the thick, earthy liquid, finding its taste oddly familiar. Returning to my bed, I awaited the medicine’s effects, watching others around me begin their transformative journeys.

Despite the passage of time feeling elusive, I remained calm, surrendering to the medicine’s wisdom. The second cup brought a wave of nausea, signaling the start of a challenging physical and emotional purge. As I struggled with my discomfort, I realized the depth of my emotional release, shedding tears for my childhood self. Something was brewing, but I just couldn’t figure it out. But I kept being shown glimpses of my childhood.

The third cup resulted in more purging, culminating in a profound release as I expelled what felt like a mix of anxiety and fear—a symbolic shedding of past burdens. In total, I ended up drinking five cups of ayahuasca and spent what felt like an eternity purging. However, with each purge, I felt a sense of healing, as if each expulsion served a purpose.

While I found comfort in the collective energy of the group at Rythmia, supporting each other through laughter, tears, violent purges, and moments of deep reflection, I couldn’t deny a lingering disappointment. Many in the group had received vivid visions from Aya, but she seemed to have skipped me. I couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe I wasn’t surrendering enough, or perhaps I wasn’t worthy of her visit. Listening to others tell their experiences left me feeling even emptier than before.

With a scheduled meeting with the visiting Shaman tomorrow, I held onto hope that our talk would bring further clarity to what I was searching for. As the ceremony concluded, I felt physically and emotionally drained but also profoundly lighter, ready to face whatever insights the next day would bring.